


Fall

by Train_Diskenth



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Past Relationship(s), Retrospective, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Train_Diskenth/pseuds/Train_Diskenth
Summary: It's a cold night out as Mao heads back to his apartment after buying some groceries. In this more provincial town lives a tranquil silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of gold leaves as cats make their night rounds.Warmed only by his jogging pants and jacket, Mao traverses the streets he has called home for two years. Houses silent. Streets empty. The moon shines above brighter than the dilapidated street lamps.Mao passes by the river like always. Like always. The water is calm, still, almost pristine, until something, something, a leaf, falls, causing a ripple throughout the surface, resounding across the body.The silence is deafening.





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Have this fic I wrote at like, 3AM

It's a cold night out as Mao heads back to his apartment after buying some groceries. In this more provincial town lives a tranquil silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of gold leaves as cats make their night rounds. 

Warmed only by his jogging pants and jacket, Mao traverses the streets he has called home for two years. Houses silent. Streets empty. The moon shines above brighter than the dilapidated street lamps.

Mao passes by the river like always. _Like always._ The water is calm, still, almost pristine, until something, _something, a leaf_, falls, causing a ripple throughout the surface, resounding across the body.

The silence is deafening.

A gust of wind passes by, and he feels no chill. Warmed by his clothing, the only shiver he feels down his spine is the cold embrace of solitude. He sits by a bench, under a mostly bald tree, and lights a cigarette. _When did he even start smoking?_ Mao can't remember.

He takes a puff and breathes in. The warm smoke filling his lungs. He exhales with a sigh. Graduate school had been particularly challenging. Not the way high school or college was challenging with the number of projects and papers he juggled around. No, grad school was more like a test of your person. Mao suddenly realizes how much he valued _not_ being alone.

He inhales again. No one has been around in a while to stop him from smoking, specifically _he_ hasn't been around to stop Mao from the bad habit.

Speaking of _him_, it's been almost half a month since he last saw Makoto.

_Ah_, Mao ponders how his best friend was doing. After college, he landed a position in the video game company as a creator. He always knew Makoto could make it. Even back in high school, when they first met and started to become best friends, Mao believed in him more than anyone, even Makoto himself. He feels a surge of pride inside him, before the sparks of light suddenly died out into a twisted spiral that pulled him in.__

_ _Mao missed him. They've been seeing each other frequently enough for it not to happen, but it wasn't just that. Mao _missed_ him. Having your best friend stick with you for years is one of the best feelings in the entire world. Having more-than-friendship feelings for said best friend for years, isn't._ _

_ _..._ _

_ _It's no secret to anyone how close Mao and Makoto had been in college. Hell, it would be weird if they saw one without the other. So it came to no surprise how their friendship turned into something more in the middle of their second year._ _

_ _It was a first. For both of them. Neither has been in a relationship before. It was _terrifying_. For Mao, who had managed to experiment with his own sexuality, it wasn't the end of the world. For Makoto, on the other hand, his world started to shake. What if's, how's, and why's plagued his mind, and Mao didn't find out until it was too late._ _

_ _Things started out great, but they both knew they had to keep it secret. Silently holding hands under the tables. Sneaking in hugs when no one's looking. Stealing kisses in the dark side of the library. Sliding past each other's window. Sleeping with each other when they were sure no one was around. They both were unsure of everything, except that _absolutely no one else has to know_. Until someone did._ _

_ _They don't know how, maybe it's just their friends picking up hints. But one day, Subaru just came to Mao randomly with _the_ question. Mao was stunned. But he had to keep his cool, and lied. Soon, more and more people were talking. And just as soon, more and more complications arise._ _

_ _.._ _

_ _It was fall._ _

_ _It was a cold night when Mao and Makoto was strolling on the grounds of Yumenosaki University after a gruelling exam. In the shadow of the moon, the campus held this tranquil silence, broken only by the occasional crunch of maple leaves swept by the wind._ _

_ _Warmed only by their uniform and blazers, Mao and Makoto traversed the grounds in silence. The tension in the air was calm, still, almost pristine, until something, _something, Makoto's words_, fell, causing a ripple throughout the surface. A ripple turned into a crack, eventually shattering Mao's world in a heartbeat._ _

_ _But Mao couldn't feel anything. With a nod, and a promise of understanding, Mao was left by Makoto._ _

_ _.._ _

_ _Mao takes his last inhale for this stick, crushing the filter to put out the wisps, before lighting up a new one. The place is empty, except for him. _As it should be after midnight.__ _

_ _The night is cold. Warmed only by his clothes and the smoke coursing through his body, Mao gazed at the falling leaves. One by one, leaving the tree from whence it came. Turning from green, to yellow, to orange before letting go completely and falling down. Brittle and fragile. It takes but one touch for it to be disintegrated. But spring will come, and eventually find themselves back to where they belong._ _

_ _..._ _

_ _The next few years of college turned out to be both the best and worst thing he had ever experienced. Being a workaholic, Mao buried himself in extracurricular activities, joining whatever club he could devote himself to. Anything to keep him busy. Anything to keep his mind off of Makoto. Anything to keep _himself_ away from Makoto. Until he couldn't._ _

_ _On their last year sees them working on almost everything together. Whether it be by chance or by fate, Mao doesn't know, nor does he know how to feel about it. He doesn't, _shouldn't_, mind by now to have Makoto around. He has, _should've_, moved on. But having Makoto beside him again, being the same old Makoto he knew, _he fell in love with_, shook him to the core. Mao wasn't as strong as he thought he was. He was simply lying to himself to make him feel better._ _

_ _Mao had absolutely zero intentions of telling Makoto any of these. So when Makoto reached out to be his friend, _his best friend_, again, he had absolutely zero reasons to say no._ _

_ _And for a while, things were good. Things were great. Mao and Makoto were the way they were before their relationship started. Mao hiding what he truly felt as they were eating in whatever food stall they found on the sides of town. Makoto dragging Mao to the arcade just like old times. Mao trying not to feel anything as his best friend treats him like a best friend would. Makoto inviting him over for sleepovers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mao being all excited about it while hiding his insecurites like it was the most natural thing in the world. And this worked. Mao couldn't say he wasn't happy. How could he not be when he has his best friend beside him once again?_ _

_ _Until he broke the balance._ _

_ _It was after a night of partying that they both crashed Mao's place. They both had their fair share of drinks and were extremely light-headed. They didn't know how it happened, but the next thing he knew is that he had his hands down Makoto's pants. Little by little, both of their resolves fall. And before he knew it, Mao had him in his mouth. Makoto was gripping the sheets tightly, knuckles turning from flesh, to pink, to white. He was on the edge, brittle and fragile, and with one lick, his high came crashing into Mao's willing mouth._ _

_ _Makoto pulled him up and pleaded with his eyes. Mao understood._ _

_ _It was a night they'd never forget. It was a night they never thought would happen again. And it was a night Mao didn't know he would eventually regret._ _

_ _Mao didn't know where they stand. Sometimes, Makoto would act like a boyfriend, and some other times, Makoto would act like just a best friend. It was weird and unsettling at times. But Mao couldn't just ask. He knows he can't. So he keeps his silence. Until graduation._ _

_ _..._ _

_ _Mao stands as he inhales the last of his stick, disposing of the remains in a nearby bin. With a shaky exhale, he continues his stroll back to his apartment. His walk guided only by the moon, shining above him. He walks as he sees the light cast his shadow, almost mockingly representing him as an empty shell._ _

_ _..._ _

_ _They eventually settled down. Neither had to talk. They just knew. Both Makoto and Mao knew that they could only ever be best friends. And they accept it. Didn't mean Mao had to like it._ _

_ _Not being in school was a major dent to their time together. This gave Mao the time to think, the time to readjust, the time to heal. After almost a year of only seeing each other occasionally, Mao thought he was ready._ _

_ _It didn't hurt him as much when they hang out and Makoto treated him just as a best friend. It didn't bother him as much when they spent time together. It didn't plague him as much anymore. He felt free, after almost five, excrutiating years. It felt liberating._ _

_ _Until it didn't._ _

_ _Emotions are sometimes cruel. They come up to you when you least expect them to. When Mao hears Makoto laugh with him. When Mao sees Makoto smile at him. When Mao feels Makoto lean against him. When Mao smells Makoto sleeping beside him. _ _

_ _Emotions are sometimes cruel, and Mao can't help but feel that same wrenching feeling in his gut, seemingly mocking him for all the years he tried to move on. On a cold night, with the light from his window casting the shadow of his wasted efforts on the floor. He embraces himself as he turns away from the sleeping Makoto, willing himself to sleep, and try to wake up to find out this was all but a dream._ _

_ _Except it wasn't._ _

_ _..._ _

_ _It's a cold night out as Mao starts his climb on his apartment after a quick stroll. In this more provincial town lives a tranquil silence, broken only by Mao shifting his keys, trying to unlock his door. _ _

_ _Warmed only by his jogging pants and jacket, Mao walks into his apartment he has called home for two years. House silent. Rooms empty. The moon shines through his window as the only source of light._ _

_ _Mao drops his stuff by the kitchen and moves to the makeshift sofa like always. _Like always._ The night is calm, still, almost pristine, until something, _something, his ever present feelings for Makoto_, calls, causing a ripple throughout the surface, resounding across his body_ _

_ _Mao gazed at his unfinished papers. One by one, coming into fruition. One page turns to two, to five, to ten before needing a conclusion. Full, but empty. It is finished but not with the finesse Mao used to write with. Then the next week will come and Mao to find himself with more to finish, and even lesser resolve to continue._ _

_ _His room illuminated only by the moon, shining from the window. He stills as he sees the light cast his shadow, mockingly representing him as an empty shell. _Absolutely no difference from what he is now.__ _

_ _The silence is deafening._ _


End file.
